Dance for Me
by hellokitty0703
Summary: To everyone else, she was just a heartless Vocal Adrenaline robot who'd been thrown out the moment she had stopped being of any use. He just saw someone who'd lost her way. Could dance, the very thing that had almost destroyed her, bring her happiness? OC


**I'm just another person who's madly in love with Mike Chang, no big deal, so this story is going to be a Mike Chang/OC fic. I'm actually not a big gleek-I just love Harry-so I apologize in advance if some of the characters' personalities aren't captured properly. This story takes place after "New York", and I'll try to stick to what happened in the show as closely as possible. Thank you for clicking on this story, and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>Chapter One<em>

Beads of sweat were forming on the surface of smooth, pale skin, fighting to fill spots that weren't already occupied.

"Faster!"

A pair of perfectly-shaped pink lips—not too thin and not too thick—parted slightly to reveal clenched teeth.

"This is terrible. Oh, my God, someone please kill me."

She slammed her foot down, making sure that her form was correct, stopping her spinning motion quite effectively. Breathing heavily, she whirled around, eyes narrowed and one brow arched, to give her coach a challenging look.

Arms crossed over his broad chest as he made his way across the stage towards her, Dustin Goolsby sneered down his sharp nose at Elizabeth 'Ellie' Yang, dissatisfaction written all over his face. "Sloppy. It was just sloppy." He shook his head, breathing a deep sigh, and then reached a hand up to fix a strand of his carefully-gelled hair. "Just go," he said dismissively, looking away.

Ellie stood her ground, breathing slowly so as to fight the retort that was threatening to burst out of her mouth. After a few moments, she managed to compose herself, and flashed him a saccharine smile. "Yes, Coach Goolsby. I'll be sure to practice," she murmured quietly before stalking off the stage and snatching up her sports bag.

As she was about to exit Carmel High's spacious auditorium, her entire body aching from the day's torture, Coach Goolsby's condescending tone rang out, stopping her in her tracks.

"Hey, are you putting on some weight? Watch what you eat, okay? Don't want you ruining the aesthetics of our performance. Even my beauty can't balance out a fat girl."

Again, Ellie had to take some time to calm herself before storming out of the auditorium. God, she hated him so, so much. Still, she couldn't help bringing a hand to her stomach self-consciously. She poked it gingerly, wondering if perhaps she was gaining weight. After all, she had broken down just last week and devoured a chocolate bar like an animal. But she pushed the thought away, promising herself that she would just spend some more time on the treadmill later.

She walked slowly down the empty hallway, wrinkling her nose at the peeling paint on the walls and the dented lockers. It was a far cry from the glorious state of the auditorium. Carmel put all its money into Vocal Adrenaline, certain that their cherished show choir would continue to bring them fame and recognition, and ignored the rest of the school. While Vocal Adrenaline got lights with a ridiculously high wattage, outrageously-priced costumes, and all the stage effects that Coach Goolsby demanded, the sports teams were practicing with equipment that was falling apart and had to raise money to go to their tournaments.

Being a part of Vocal Adrenaline was no joke, though. You worked your ass off, and for what? To be criticized and mocked daily? To feel the pangs of hunger because you were starving yourself to make up for the fact that you'd eaten a bagel for lunch the previous day? To be told that you weren't pretty enough and that the judges would dock marks for your huge pores?

The moment Dustin Goolsby had replaced Shelby Corcoran, things had changed for the prettier. Each member had been given a weight limit determined by their height which, once exceeded, would cause them to be penalized. Coach Goolsby used money from their budget to send them to the best hair salons and dermatologists. It was imperative that every single person's teeth be straight and pearly-white, so that the judges would be dazzled when he or she smiled.

Ellie made it out to the parking lot without exploding, which she prided herself on. As she began heading towards her car, she took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, trying to relieve herself of some of the anger and frustration that had slowly been building up inside of her ever since she'd joined show choir at Carmel.

Honestly, Coach Goolsby wasn't even that hard on her, so she didn't have much to complain about. She wasn't being conceited or anything, but Ellie thought that she really didn't have any issues in the looks department. Though she was Asian, she didn't bear any of the markers that most other Asian girls complained about, such as the big, flat nose, small eyes, and dark skin. Her nose was small and raised, the tip quite defined as opposed to the usual roundness of Asian noses, her eyes big and wide, appearing even larger thanks to the long lashes that framed them, and her skin was a pale, almost milky-white colour.

She knew she was pretty. She knew she was talented—she was one of Vocal Adrenaline's most prized members. That should've been enough to make show choir more than just 'bearable'. She should've been able to enjoy the feeling of being on top. But she didn't.

"Hey, Yang!"

The very familiar yet unoriginal moniker uttered in that very familiar, haughty tone jerked Ellie out of her egotistical thoughts, causing her to turn around automatically. Almost immediately, there was a strange lurch in her stomach, a sensation that, though rare, she had grown accustomed to.

"St. James," she replied coolly, finding it difficult to maintain the detached façade. Just the sight of the former Vocal Adrenaline member who also happened to be her ex-boyfriend, Jesse St. James, caused her to feel quite conflicted—especially since he was supposed to be far, far away from Lima, Ohio.

But there he was, in all his perfection, practically strutting towards her. Though Ellie could picture Jesse's face in her mind in a split-second, she still found herself memorizing his features for the nth time. His chocolate curls, gelled to perfection, barely moved in the light autumn breeze; blue eyes twinkled with dazzling charm and confidence; thin lips were set in their usual position, just a twitch away from his trademark smirk.

God, she'd missed him. Even his stupid, condescending smirk.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light and conversational, though really, she was dying of curiosity. He was supposed to be in California, redoing his first year of university. At least, that was the original plan; Jesse St. James had a way of just doing things the way he liked.

Jesse drew a bit closer, just staring at her. "Where are you parked?" he asked instead of answering.

Knowing him, she knew that he didn't care where the hell her car was. She folded her arms across her chest and gave him her best 'don't-give-me-no-bullshit' look.

He chuckled slightly, looking amused, and then glanced away, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck. "I don't really want to go to school. No one appreciates my talent, I actually have to audition for the lead parts, and I was asked to cut down on my grooming time. Apparently, beauty and talent don't always go hand-in-hand. Who knew?"

Though she'd really wanted to know why he was at Carmel, she didn't bother asking again; this was the Jesse St. James she knew and missed, and she wasn't going to ruin the moment. Trying not to betray her amusement, she frowned at him and jerked her head in the vague direction of her car. "Are you going anywhere? I'll give you a ride."

Jesse's eyes roamed up and down her rail-thin form, the smirk back in place as he took in her tank top and sweats, both showing evidence of physical exertion. "Looks like you just got out of practice. You should head back home and shower."

Ellie bit her lip, wanting so much to ask questions: how long he would be staying, whether or not he would be helping out with Vocal Adrenaline, and whether or not his return had anything to do with _her_.

But she was too much of a wimp to ask any of those questions. So, Ellie did what she was best at and held her tongue. A bit hesitantly, she turned her back on Jesse and walked away.

The moment Ellie walked through the front door of the Yang residence, a sharp "How was practice?" greeted her. That was her mother; no segue, just plough right in.

Rolling her eyes, she kicked off her Nikes and began trotting up the stairs. "Fine," she yelled back. "Coach says I'm improving." She had no qualms about lying to her parents as long as it got them off her case. And besides, it wasn't really a lie—she would improve eventually. In fact, she was already good; Coach Goolsby just refused to acknowledge it. He would just keep pushing her and pushing her until she almost broke. Only then would he allow her a grudging compliment.

Quickly, before her mom could continue with the interrogation, she slipped inside her room and closed the door firmly behind her. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, she tossed her bag on the floor and began searching around her room for a change of clothes. Everywhere she went, medals and trophies glinted at her almost mockingly from their respective places on walls and shelves.

As she was rummaging through her closet, she lifted her head briefly to glance at the clock. It was already a quarter past seven, which meant she had exactly fifteen minutes to shower, get dressed, make herself presentable, and then head downstairs for dinner, which started at precisely seven-thirty.

There was no way she could mess up her parents' perfect schedule or their equally perfect lives, so Ellie hurried into the bathroom and clambered quickly into the shower.

Once a steady flow of hot water was cascading down on her, soothing the aches and washing away any evidence of the pain she'd suffered today, she finally allowed herself to relax; the serenity she was feeling was almost palpable. There was no one here to tell her that she wasn't good enough. The only demon in the room was her.

Though she'd love to be able to stay in the shower for another hour or two, Ellie reluctantly shut the water off after about five minutes.

She got dressed quickly, put on a little bit of make-up, and then ran a brush through her tangled raven locks. She stared at her reflection in the mirror for a moment, noticing vaguely that her usually blank expression was different today; there was a slight crease in her forehead, an almost frustrated look in her eyes.

It was emotion. How strange.

Shaking that thought out of her mind, Ellie looked away from the mirror and left the room. As she made her way downstairs, she silently cursed Jesse St. James for coming back. So many of the good and bad things alike that had happened to her these past few years could be traced back to him. Joining Vocal Adrenaline, falling in love—or at least what she thought was love—and getting her heart broken. All those things were because of one Jesse St. James, and she still hadn't forgotten that.

"Ellie! Dinner!"

Any other person would've jumped at the sharp bark, but Ellie had long grown accustomed to it. Calmly, she replaced her brush and called back, "I'm coming!"

As she made her way downstairs, she contemplated her barren schedule for the night. It was Friday, which meant her curfew would be pushed back two hours. Being an Asian child, a later curfew was something to cherish; many of her friends didn't even have curfews.

To Ellie, each weekend felt like the same old thing put on repeat. Living in Lima was partly to blame, but the other reason was that all her friends ever wanted to do was party. It was always the same old places, the same old people who got drunk. Ellie was tired of it all.

Just as she entered the dining room, Ellie heaved a sigh, briefly considering staying home and catching up on some _Gossip Girl_.

Mrs. Yang set down the two plates of chicken stir-fry that she was holding to look at her daughter. "What's wrong?" she asked; though the words were very motherly, they weren't, spoken in her mom's blunt tone.

Ellie took her seat, shaking her head. "Nothing," she replied quietly. "My body's just aching a bit." Almost immediately, she wished she could take back those words.

Her mother made a clucking sound with her tongue, which was not a good sign. She took her seat across from the head of the table and gave her daughter a hard look. "When I was your age, I had to walk miles to get to and from school. I stayed at school until late at night, sometimes even going without dinner…"

A switch in Ellie's brain immediately flicked, tuning her mother out. How many times had Ellie heard this speech? Rose Zhang had immigrated to America with her husband, William Yang, when they were both in their early-twenties. They'd arrived with almost nothing to their names, and yet today, William was a successful business and Rose a stay-at-home mom. The Yangs were quite well-off, especially by Lima standards, but Mrs. Yang loved to remind Ellie of the hardships she and her husband had suffered to get to where they were now, especially whenever Ellie accidentally let slip of how arduous being a part of Vocal Adrenaline was.

Thankfully, before her mom could get into how she once had to go without dinner for getting a math problem wrong, Ellie heard the door open, which meant her dad was home. It wasn't like she was any happier to see him, but at least it put a stop to her mom's reminiscing.

She arranged her features into her usual neutral expression with no effort at all as her dad took his seat at the dining table. The moment he was sitting, dinner was allowed to begin, as did the Yang inquisition. Ellie, as always, answered each question fired at her with a lacklustre response, all the while dragging her fork through her tiny mountain of rice. Though she'd never asked her mom to cut down her meals, her mom, being oh-so-concerned for her daughter, had done it anyway. Ellie scoffed inwardly, thinking to herself that she wasn't going to eat anything anyway, so her mom didn't have to worry.

Dinner was as torturous as ever. Ellie listened with half an ear as her parents discussed an upcoming get-together with another Chinese family in Lima; it didn't really concern her, though, as she never went to those. She was always excused from the gatherings as long as she uttered two words: Vocal Adrenaline. It was beneficial to both her and her parents, as it gave Mr. and Mrs. Yang something to brag about while sipping wine after dinner.

Time past slowly, but after half an hour, Ellie stood up, full plate in hand, and retreated to the kitchen to dump yet another meal in the trash can. Her parents didn't even spare her a glance. This was their ritual, and the Yangs were very good at following it.

A short while later, Ellie found herself at one of Lima's few bars yet again, watching as her friends alternated between downing drinks and gyrating wildly on the dance floor. Same as every weekend, Ellie sat at the bar nursing a Coke, letting herself be engulfed by the pounding music—mostly top 40—and flashing neon lights.

It was dark, hot, and the stench of body odour mixed with alcohol filled her nostrils. Guys who were somehow already drunk tried to force themselves on her, though they were way too out of it to come even close to creeping her out. She wrinkled her nose disdainfully at it all.

Sometimes, Ellie wondered why she put herself through all this when she always ended up being so bored, but she knew deep down that almost anywhere was better than home or practice.

It was at these times that Ellie wondered why she'd been put on this earth.

She wasn't a religious person by any means, but once upon a time, when her mother had still been her mother, she'd told her that everyone had a purpose, a goal, to fulfill in this world. As she'd gotten older, Ellie had grown certain that dancing was her purpose, though she hadn't come to that conclusion on her own.

But as she'd grown older, that belief had started becoming overshadowed by doubt. Slowly, all the criticism and disappointment over anything less than first place had gotten to her, and she'd stopped loving dance. She'd begun dreading going to lessons and participating in competitions. In fact, not only did she stop loving dance, but she started resenting it.

Whether her parents liked it or not—maybe they didn't even know or care—Ellie had lost her passion for dancing and, it seemed, everything else. She felt like she was living, but not really living. Her whole life used to be about dance, but now… Now, she didn't know.

Quitting, however, wasn't an option, because no matter how much she hated dancing, it was all she had, and she knew she'd never be able to let it go.

The depressing thoughts almost made Ellie want to down a few gin and tonics, but she reminded herself that she was the designated driver, as always. Even so, a tiny voice in her head whispered that tons of other designated drivers always snuck a few drinks anyway, as they were confident—sometimes overly—in their ability to hold alcohol.

But Ellie was a good girl who never dared to break the rules, no matter how much she wanted to. So instead of calling the bartender over, she hopped off her stool and went off in search of friends who were less steady on their feet.

Because they were at a club and not someone else's house, Ellie figured that most of her friends would only be slightly tipsy. At a house party, drinks were free, whereas you had to pay at a club; given the situations of most families in Lima, many of Ellie's friends cut back on the drinks whenever they went out, for monetary reasons only.

That was precisely why Ellie found a group of her friends huddled in a circle, shouting to be heard over the din, discussing plans to move the party to someone's house. This was nothing new. The whole purpose of going out in the first place was to give everyone a chance to find some entertainment for the night.

The group squeezed its way out of the club, and once everyone was outside, Ellie inhaled deeply, relishing the feel of fresh air making its way into her lungs.

"Hey, Ellie!"

She turned at the sound of her name to see a grinning Nate Renault, one of Vocal Adrenaline's more dispensable members. He had the kind of skills that Coach Goolsby called 'tolerable', but because of his good looks, he had been accepted as one of the group's many back-up dancers and singers. "Yes?" she replied with much less enthusiasm.

He extended his left hand, using the other one to brush a few loose strands of sandy-blond hair out of his hazel eyes. "Want me to drive?" he asked, his expression radiating boyish charm. Ellie might've found it appealing once upon a time had she not known how aware Nate was of his own attractiveness.

Ellie had already pulled her ring of keys out, and she clutched them protectively in her hand. "I haven't had anything to drink. I'll be fine."

Stubbornly, Nate moved his hand even closer, pouting and making puppy-dog eyes at her. "Come on, Ellie. You drive like an old Asian lady. I can get us there ten times faster."

Although she desperately wanted to say no—a bit worried that, though he wasn't slurring and his eyes were focused, he still might get them into some deep shit—she found herself dropping the ring into his outstretched palm, the metal keys clinking against each other. "I call shotgun," she muttered quietly.

Looking triumphant, Nate thanked her quickly before jogging off towards her trusty old Toyota. Ellie had been hesitant at first when her parents had passed the car down to her, as she hadn't wanted to fit the Asian-Toyota stereotype, but the car had grown on her.

As Ellie followed Nate silently, everyone around her was shouting across the parking lot at one another, figuring out who was going to ride with whom. It was always this chaotic, but Ellie had long since figured out how to stay out of everything.

She and Nate got into her car first, but couldn't leave yet, as they had to wait for the three more people to fill up the back. It always got to the point where people were just running around trying to find cars that still had room in them. In the end, Brianne Allen, Kim Hollis, and Peter Kim ended up squeezing into Ellie's car, all three of them giggling maniacally at something that neither Ellie nor Nate understood.

Nate glanced at them in the rear-view mirror, his face betraying his amusement. He then glanced at Ellie. "Ready to go?" he asked affably.

She gave a curt nod in response, at which point Nate started the engine and manoeuvred his way out of the packed lot with a great amount of skill. Ellie had to admit—grudgingly—that he was a pretty good driver; it always took her a while to get out.

Seeing as the Three Musketeers had started on an off-key rendition of "He's a Jolly Good Fellow", it was inevitable that Nate strike up a conversation with Ellie.

"So," he began slowly, "did you have fun tonight?" He glanced away from the road for a split-second to look over at her, though Ellie would much rather he pay attention to driving.

Ellie moved her shoulders in a shrug, keeping her eyes locked straight ahead. Lima really needed to get some lights installed on their smaller roads; there was no other light aside from the car's headlights.

"Yeah, it was boring for me, too." Nate continued talking comfortably, as if Ellie's short replies weren't enough to indicate her disinterest in him. "I don't—"

She never got to hear the rest of his sentence, as a dark shape suddenly leapt out in front of the car. Several things happened after that.

First, Nate let out a loud expletive and jerked the steering wheel sharply to the right. The Three Musketeers stopped singing. And then, Ellie saw a tree.

Pain like she'd never known it before coursed throughout her entire body. She had been pumped full of drugs, so she was on the cusp of sleep, but as of right now, she was still able to keep herself awake.

"Will she… still be able to dance?"

If her body had been responding properly, she would've scoffed, and loudly at that. Their only daughter was lying in a hospital bed with a broken leg and various other injuries, and her parents' only concern was her future in dance? What a joke.

She was drifting now; it was a lot harder to hear what the doctor was saying, but Ellie realized after struggling to listen that she didn't care what the stupid guy with the degree had to say. She didn't care if she would still be able to dance. She'd take up something else—like wood carving.

Now, it was a battle to keep her eyes open. God, she was tired. So many thoughts were filling her head, too many for her brain to handle at the moment.

Finally, they left, with one last glance back at her. For the first time in a long time, she saw concern written all over their faces, but she wasn't sure if they were more worried about her or her leg.

Somehow, she managed to stay awake until the room was empty and the lights had been switched off. Only then did she allow everything to come out.

The tears finally started. They had been welling up in her eyes, threatening to start dripping down her cheeks, but she'd held them in. For so many years, she'd held everything in—her anger, her sadness, her pain and suffering—but no more. She had always been so compliant, so frustratingly meek and quiet, just taking every single blow dealt to her, but no more. The moment she got out of this stupid hospital, she wouldn't be the same Ellie.

Tonight, Ellie had finally opened her eyes, and it had taken a near-death experience for her to see.

It wasn't death that scared her. It was the fact that, had she died, she would only be remembered as Ellie the dancer. That was her only redeeming quality, the only good thing that people would have to say about her at her funeral. 'Oh, she was such a gifted dancer. What a shame.' Was that what everyone would say?

In her opinion, that was pathetic. She had lived seventeen years of her life for just that?

Ellie wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but the drugs were finally kicking in, and it was becoming too hard to fight sleep anymore.

And so she cried herself to sleep, hands balled into tight fists.


End file.
